


Big Gay Al's Big Gay Summer Camp That Isn't

by Tandem_Constable



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Gore, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Gaggle of unnamed children, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It's not a happy something, Kyle is tired, Kyle learns something today, Major Character Injury, Sexual Violence, Summer Camp, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trauma, woods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23453257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tandem_Constable/pseuds/Tandem_Constable
Summary: Counseling at summer camp was supposed to be nice.Counseling at summer camp was supposed to be fun.It wasn't.Oh, how it wasn't.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Away for the Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Dreams man.

Junior year was one week away from being done forever, and though he typically enjoyed school itself, Kyle Broflovski felt the infectious excitement permeating the halls around him seep deep into the marrow of his bones. He could feel his cheeks stretching from an over-wide smile as he closed his nearly entirely cleaned out locker, barely able to contain himself. He was really looking forward to his summer, his summer away from this hoe-dunk little mountain town and all of its innumerable little mountain town terrors.

He was going to spend his summer as a camp counselor. And he wasn't going to the kind of camp his parents would send him to going up, the kind where he’d have to recite hymns in Hebrew or make sacrificial macaroni art to be offered up to Moses. No, he was going to a bonafide summer camp, with towering trees, and hiking trails, and a lake with kayaks, and secular camp fire songs, and he’d be pretty much running it.

Sure, he had enjoyed the camps he went to growing up, but he just preferred not adding the stress of having to force children to make macaroni art thrown on top of his shoulders. He just wanted a peaceful, yet fulfilling summer, away from all of his frustrations. There wasn’t anything wrong with that...

His gravity-defying grin slipped.

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. He didn't need to feel guilty about which camp he had chosen to work at. Really, he was doing a service, practically volunteering. Big Gay Al, one of the kindest people in town, had really wanted to open up a summer camp. So what if Kyle had jumped at the opportunity? He was just being a contributing member of the community.

His grin returned, if a little more self-righteous and a touch smaller than before.

Yeah, maybe his dad wouldn’t let off his case about it, the petty bastard, but Kyle wasn’t going to let that bring him down. The man’s opinion really didn’t mean much to him, and he didn’t plan on answering his phone the entire time he was away. He was sixteen, and he could make his own decisions.

“What’s got you looking so happy?” A loud thump against the locker beside him, andan indescribably irritating voice, Eric Cartman, his worst frenemy, had decided to rear his ugly head. Kyle looked up at him slowly, about three inches shorter than the other boy. Cartman was grinning, his head cocked in mock curiosity.

“I was enjoying how peaceful it was without you around,” Kyle responded, pushing past him. Summer was just around the corner, but he still had a week left; he still had to go to class.

“Ah, c’mon Kyle, don’t be like that,” Cartman whined.

“Like what?” Kyle asked, ignoring when their paces matched up, repressing a horrified shudder. It wasn’t going to bother him. It couldn’t. He only had one week left.

“Oh I dunno,” Cartman hummed, “Like a little bitch?”

“It astounds me how little you’ve matured in all these years I’ve known you.”

“Ouch, Kyle, you wound me. Just as cold as ever I see.”

“Only to you.” Kyle stopped in front of his classroom, not sure why he hesitated a moment before stepping through the doorway.

“So I’m special then?” Cartman grinned, his eyes glinting.

Kyle rolled his eyes and backed into the room. “Yeah, in your dreams maybe.”

+++

Kyle sat alone in the library during lunch, buried in a book that to him could very well not have anything written in it. Normally he would sit in the cafeteria with his friends, or they would go off campus to find something greasy- or that had been the norm at the beginning of the year. In more recent days, Kyle had been finding it surprisingly common to find himself alone at lunch with nowhere to go. He flipped a meaningless page, his eyes blankly scanning the inky lines.

Stan, his supposed super best friend, was spending yet another lunch with his girlfriend Wendy, and Kyle had been finding it increasingly difficult to third-wheel them. Actually, he had never particularly enjoyed being the third wheel. His prior patience for was simply waning. Kenny, the only other person he would really want to spend his lunch with anymore, liked to spend his lunch hour at the middle school keeping up with his little sister, which Kyle couldn’t really complain about without feeling like an asshole.

So he spent his lunch like this, hiding behind a book so he wouldn’t have to answer anyone’s questions. He had little patience for his peers these days. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. He only had one week left, then he’d have two whole months to himself... and whatever kids he had to keep an eye on, but he wasn’t really put out by the thought.

“Wanna bite of my hotdog?” A slimy wiener bumped the edge of his nose. He jerked back and yelped, his book sent into orbit. A steadying hand pressed over his heart, he shot a scandalized glare at his ambusher.

“No, Cartman, I do not.” Kyle batted the offending meat out of his face. Cartman snickered. “You’re not even allowed to have food in here, Dumbass.”

“Jeez, Kyle, don’t have to bite my head off.” Cartman shoveled half of the hotdog in his mouth in one bite. The sight of it made Kyle’s cheeks feel cold, like he was going to throw up. “Just because a guy is worried about your health doesn’t mean you have to get all defensive.”

“I’m not defensive.” He cleared his throat, not liking how quickly his voice had gone shrill. He breathed out to a measured seven beats, focusing on not letting his face turn red. He would rise above his irritation. He was better than this.

“I just noticed you don’t really eat at lunch. You just squirrel yourself away in the library, with the same stupid book.” Cartman dropped the book on the table, having picked it up at one point. “It’s been like two months, and you’re only halfway through this one.” Kyle snatched his book back, skin crawling.

“I find it hard to believe you’re here out of concern. I’m fine by the way.” Kyle rolled his eyes.

“You should have finished that book in like two days.”

“And you’ve been thinking that for two months? Fu-”

A gentle cough across the table from him cut him off. He grunted and pushed Cartman out of his face. He always managed to force his way into bubbles he wasn't welcome in. Wendy Testaburger waited patiently, twirling a strand of black hair around her finger. Stan’s girlfriend waited patiently, without Stan, who was supposed to be having lunch with her. Kyle narrowed his eyes, ignoring when he could hear the moist splitting of Cartman’s smirk growing.

“Wendy. Where’s Stan?” He asked, smiling a little too widely, knowing he didn't come off a casually as he had intended. He was far too stressed for this. Why did one week- just the first day of that week- have to stretch on for eternity?

“I think he’s playing football or something, since it’s so warm out.” She didn't sound entirely certain, but she didn’t sound entirely bothered by it either. Kyle grunted.

“Well,” he plopped his chin in the palm of his hand, “how can I help you, Wendy?” He knew he sounded tired. He didn't care. He only had to force himself through one more-

Wendy slid a clipboard across the table at him. Kyle glanced at it, but he didn’t register what it said. “I’m looking for volunteers for the summer. We’re going to be protesting-”

“I’m sorry, Wendy, but I’m going to stop you right there.” Kyle held his hands up, palms out, defensive and apologetic. He grinned, feeling like a real jackass for cutting her off, but this was the exact kind of thing he was trying to avoid over the summer. One thing always escalated into another, and while Kyle certainly didn't mind fighting for a cause he believed in, he wasn’t looking for one. “I’m gonna be busy over the summer.”

“With what?” Wendy pulled the clipboard back an inch. Her eyes were accusatory. Kyle shrank in on himself in shame.

“I have a job.” He felt Cartman staring at him. He clenched his teeth. Cartman, he was the most excited to have a vacation away from.

“And? I’m not asking for you 24/7, just whatever free time you can spare. This is really important. Even Craig signed up.” She stabbed Craig Tucker’s name with a pink nail, the paint just starting to chip at the edges.

“You convinced Tweek to sign up is what you mean.” Kyle sighed. He was probably right, too. Very few things motivated the likes of Craig Tucker, his boyfriend being one of those very few things. So of course, Kyle could see why Wendy would use his involvement as a selling point, if it was important enough for Craig...

“Kyle,” She started, taking on a tone that twisted his gut.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t love to dedicate my time to a worthy cause, you know I would!” Kyle bit his lip.

“Buuuut?” Cartman drawled, laying in to him. Kyle shoved him off.

“I’m not going to be in South Park over the summer.” He returned his full attention to Wendy. “I’m going to be camp counselor for Big Gay Al.” Cartman choked; something wet, spittle probably, splattered the side of Kyle’s face. Nice. Just great. Perfect really. He handed Cartman the most withering gaze he could muster, which was quite impressively withering.

“Oh, well okay then.” Wendy sat up, her eyes lighter. “Say hi to Al for me!” She stood up, blowing him a kiss, and left. Kyle groaned and smacked his forehead against the table. He laid there for a moment, enjoying the cool wood.

Cartman poked him.

“What?” He grumbled, irritated with how irritated he felt. Somehow even his former excitement had begun to grate on him.

“Why are you gonna work at a dumb summer camp?” Cartman poked him again when he didn’t answer fast enough. Kyle batted at his hand.

“I’m not,” he said. It wasn’t any of Cartman’s business.

“Kyle, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Kyle sighed, rolling his face up to stare blankly at Cartman. He knew he was rising to the bait, but there was a rhythm to it. It was almost easier at this point to humour him than to ignore him.

“Being a little bitch.” Cartman grinned like he was the most clever man on the planet. Kyle pushed himself out from the table and smacked Cartman in the back of the head with his unread book. “OW! What did you do that for?!”

“Oh, hush. This is a library.” Kyle smirked and made his retreat. He glanced at the clock on the way out. He had class in about three minutes, so he needed to leave then anyways. He quickened his pace so as not to be late, not because there was another set of sneakers hot on his heels.

+++

The rest of the week passed like molasses, and once it ended, Kyle couldn’t have been happier. He threw his duffel bag in the back of the dirt-orange 2007 Civic his parents had helped him buy for his sixteenth birthday, his hands quivering with excitement. He shut the door with his hip, leaned back against the body of the car, his arms hugging himself, and looked up to say his last goodbyes to Stan, who had come to help him pack up his car.

It felt strangely awkward.

They both stood there in silence, staring at each other, or staring past each other, neither speaking, neither moving, other than to fidget in silent suffering, Kyle pinching at his teeshirt, Stan shifting from foot to foot. It was ridiculous. Kyle opened his mouth to say something. Stan held up a hand, cutting him off, and Kyle didn’t argue.

“I just,” Stan looked away, “I can’t believe you’re going to be away all summer and you didn't bother to tell me. I found out from Wendy. Dude. Do you know how embarrassing that is, not being able to answer a basic question about my best friend?”

Kyle winced. He hadn’t told Stan because he had known either he’d end up being talked out of it, as if he was trying to do something crazy instead of just counseling at a summer camp, or Stan would have ended up joining him. He loved his friend, but he wasn’t willing to spend his summer listening to his problems with his girlfriend. And he just knew that it would happen. Wendy would text something, or wouldn't respond fast enough, and then Stan would spiral out.

Kyle just wanted one summer away from it.

“I have to help Wendy with her protest now.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kyle hummed noncommittally. Kyle didn't think it sounded that awful, Stan helping his girlfriend with something important to her, but Stan’s tight jaw and squinted eyes seemed to disagree.

“It’s gonna suck,” Stan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “At least if you were there it would be bearable, and we could play video games after.”

“It won’t be that bad, dude.” Kyle patted Stan’s arm, mildly annoyed. “Wendy will be there.”

“You know how she gets, Kyle.”

“Not really.”

Stan’s phone buzzed. He grimaced and pulled it out, glancing at it quickly. He sighed and tucked the phone back away, looking at Kyle with a marginally softer expression. “Well, have fun or whatever, Dude. Text me when you get there.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“You better,” Stan warned, his eyes warming considerably, “If I go a day without hearing from you I’m gonna assume you’re dead.” Kyle pushed him, and they laughed.

“I’m not going to die, Stan.” Kyle rolled his eyes, rounding his car to climb in the driver’s side.

“You never know, Kyle, you might become the next campfire story.”

Kyle snorted. “Shut up, man.” He ducked into his car. Stan caught the door, holding it open a moment longer. “What?”

“I almost forgot to tell you, Kenny wants you to send him a picture if your co-counselor is, and I quote, ‘a smokin’ babe’.”

“Yeah, you go ahead and tell him that'll definitely be the first thing on my mind.” Stan’s phone started ringing. Stan’s eyes pinched. He gave him an exaggerated mock salute and slammed the car door shut. Kyle winced. Stan waved, backing in the opposite direction as he pulled out his phone. Kyle could tell from his shoulders that it was Wendy.

+++

It was dark by the time Kyle finally drove under the big wooden sign for Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Summer Camp. Kyle rolled his eyes, but grinned all the same. Dirt and rocks crunched under his tires as he pulled in front of the cabin that served as the main office and parked. He killed his engine and sat in silence.

Outside his window he could hear the rustling of wind in the trees, and off in the distance, he could hear an owl’s forewarning call. He opened his door, breathing in as deeply as he could to take in that fresh forest air. He felt good. This was good. He locked the door behind him and strolled calmly up to the front door, refraining from skipping, even though no one was there to see him.

The porch-light overhead was on, so it was easy for him to see. He rapped a light knock on the door and pushed it open. He was immediately wrapped in a warm set of arms and lifted into the air. He was spun only once, but still had to take a moment to reorient himself once he was set down.

“Welcome to my camp!” Big Gay Al exclaimed, still holding Kyle by the shoulders, holding him out as if to look him over for injury. Kyle patted Al’s hand and grinned tightly.

“Yeah, thank you for um, for having me.”

“No thank you, silly-bins!” Al poked his nose. “If I didn't have counselors, I wouldn't be able to have a camp at all!” Kyle laughed, a little overwhelmed, but not so much he couldn't handle.

“It’s all good, man...” Kyle rubbed the nape of his neck, pretty sure it would be inappropriate to say ‘you’re welcome’ but unsure what else he could say.

“Oh! You just have to meet your co-counselor!” Al clapped his hands once and whisked Kyle off, behind the desk and through a door into the back room. Mr. Slave, Al’s husband who had been reclined with his feet on a desk filing his nails like a TV secretary, waved at him. Kyle waved back.

Then he saw him.

“Actually, I think you already know him,” Al rambled, walking past Kyle to gesture at his co-counselor by grabbing his shoulders. “Eric here said he remembered having so much fun in my scout’s troop as a kid that when he heard I was opening a camp, he just had to sign on. Isn’t that fun?”

“What. The. Actual. Fuck. Cartman.”


	2. And Gone For the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle settles in. Camp is turning out not to be what he anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Warning: threat of rape

“Oh my goodness, Kyle!” Cartman gasped, covering his grin with his hand, “Is that the kind of language you plan on using? At a summer camp? I’m shocked.”

“What are you doing here?” Kyle seethed, completely ignoring the asinine question, and forgetting his surroundings. He wasn’t even surprised at this point, just angry. He should have expected the fat bastard to ruin his plans; he always did, always butted in where he was least wanted.

“Didn’t you hear what Mr. Al said?” Cartman simpered, batting his lashes. “I’m your co-counselor, Kyle.”

“But why? When did this happen?” Kyle demanded. Nothing ever went his way, and he was sick and tired of it.

“I called right after you mentioned the camp. It sounded like fun.” Cartman shrugged casually, but his eyes sparkled with glee, and his lips twitched, threatening to pull up into a tight shit-eating smirk. Kyle boiled.

“Fuck you!” He grabbed Cartman by the front of his shirt and shoved him back into Mr. Slave’s desk.

“Oh! Jesus Christ!” Mr. Slave jumped out of the way.

“You’re just doing this to fuck with me! What are you planning, huh?” Kyle shoved him back again, slamming him back into the desk. “Why can’t you just leave me alone for two fucking months?”

“Now, boys!” Big Gay Al shouted. “Settle down!” He stamped his foot, his heel clicked endearingly on the wooden floor. Kyle immediately felt himself cool and drop back down into reality, the sudden shift making his head swim. “This is not how we will be conducting our selves here, are we understood?”

“Yes sir, Big Gay Al, sir,” Kyle mumbled. He released Cartman’s shirt with a snap and shoved him back, distancing themselves sharply. He crossed his arms, utterly embarrassed with himself, and slumped forward. He heard Cartman snicker and tightened his teeth to avoid saying anything that he might further regret. He couldn’t afford to lose this job, to be sent back home, to be caught up in yet another world-ending disaster, to be forced to put out yet another relationship fire.

He’d just have to suck it up, and put up with Cartman.

He was immeasurably less excited than he had been driving up to the camp. This summer was going to suck. He deflated in disappointment, resigned and tired once more. There went his invigorating summer, right out the window. He sighed, internally, for what felt like a thousand years.

“Sorry,” Kyle added, just to be safe.

Big Gay Al sighed, his stern expression softening. “I can’t tolerate any sort of violent behavior out of the two of you. I really hope that you can manage to get along.” He smiled at them hopefully, his eyes begging for them to take pity on him and comply. Kyle knew that he for one would, from this point on, be as calm as a clam. “It’s late, and I’ll excuse you for being a tired grumpy-pants, okay?”

“Okay, thank you.” Kyle latched onto the out so generously offered to him.

“Why don’t you boys go to bed? I’ll show you around the camp in the morning.” Kyle nodded. Big Gay Al sparkled. “Oh good. I already showed Eric where your cabin is, so you shouldn’t have much trouble.”

“Yeah, come on, Kyle, let’s get you to bed before you throw another tantrum.” Cartman teased. Kyle just turned on his heel and went right back out the door he had entered through. He wasn’t going to make it through this summer.

He heard Cartman match his stride behind him. “If you pull any shit,” Kyle warned, “I promise I’m going to kill you.” Kyle popped open his car and pulled out his bag, grunting at the weight. Cartman watched him struggle in silence. Kyle grimaced and started down a path he presumed would lead him where he needed to go.

“You think you can kill me?” Cartman laughed, overtaking him and guiding their route. “Kyle, you couldn’t kill me. You’re just a puny little-”

“I’ve kicked your ass before. I don’t think killing you would that much more difficult.”

“Are all jews as violent as you?”

“The whole jew thing is getting kind of played out, don’t you think?” Kyle readjusted his bag, regretting having packed as much as he had. He he'd just wanted to be prepared, but at the moment, he was exhausted, and his preparations only felt like a hindrance. “I guess I shouldn’t expect that much from you. You’ve always been a dumbass.”

“You should watch your language, Kyle.” Cartman sang. “What will the children think?”

“You’re infuriating.”

Cartman came to a stop in front of a typical wooden cabin. He hopped up the three steps up to the little porch and pushed the door open. The hinges mewled a gentle whine. He held open the door, gesturing like a show girl on a game show, for Kyle to enter. “Welcome, to our little slice of heaven.”

“Heaven.” Kyle echoed flatly. He shoved past him, into the cabin, making an extra effort to shoulder check him.

Kyle dropped his bag on the floor with a heavy thump. He straightened, cracking his back and took in his surroundings, or as much as he could in the dark. The room wasn’t very large, but it was livable. The space was slit down the middle, each side mirroring the other, with a bed, a desk, and a set of drawers. Kyle nodded to himself, making his way over to the unoccupied bed, dragging his bag behind him as he went.

He flopped down on the bed, grinning when the mattress bounced him. He started unlacing his shoes, intent on pretending he was the only one in the room. That was going to be his new strategy for the summer. If he pretended Cartman didn’t exist, even when he could feel him staring him down, then he wouldn’t have to deal with him. He hummed gently to himself.

His phone buzzed. He didn't feel oh so inclined to check it, but the sound did remind him of something he was supposed to do. He quickly scooped up the device, angled squared it up with Cartman’s gawking mug, and stole a snapshot of him.

“Hey!” 

Kyle ignored him, sending the picture to Kenny without explanation. He decided then, since he was already holding his phone he might as well reply to the text. It was Stan. ‘Did you make it?’ Kyle rolled his eyes.

‘No. I died. I’m dead Stan.’ He shut the phone off. He didn’t need it going off in the middle of the night and disturbing his sleep. He felt no real obligation to continue the conversation anyway. Stan knew he was alive.

“You can’t just take pictures of people without asking.” Cartman grumbled. “I know I’m hot shit, but you should have asked. I woulda done a sickass pose or some shit.”

Kyle silently rummaged through his bag, pulling out each of his essentials: he clothes, his toiletries, his flashlight, his mace, his water, his snacks, and the various other things he had thought he might need. He methodically started packing everything away into the drawers and under the bed, leaving out a set of pajamas for when he was done.

“Fine, you’re just going to ignore me then? Cool. That’s fine. Go ahead and have your little pity party.”

Kyle set a book atop the dresser, planning on reading it before he went to sleep. He also set a bottle of water and three bottles of pills beside the book, so he wouldn’t have to look for anything in the morning.

“I could tell Big Gay Al you brought drugs with you. I don’t think he’d like to hear about your drug problem, Kyle.”

Kyle kept his back turned to him, not paying a single word he said any mind. He had to, if he was to survive this summer. So far as he was concerned, Cartman no longer existed within his realm of reality. He was only trying to get a rise out of him after all, and Kyle wasn’t going to give in.

He toed off his socks and scooped them up, folding them neatly before dropping them in his laundry bag. He carefully rolled up his belt and placed it in his top drawer. He stretched out his arms with a yawn, distantly recognizing that the room was incredibly quiet. Good, the fat-ass must have ran out of things to say. He hadn’t expected his victory to be so quickly delivered. 

He shimmied out of his jeans, bobbing his head along lazily as he folded and rolled the article. He regretted freaking out the way he had before. Cartman being here wasn’t going to be so bad, all he had to do was ignore him. Kyle started to whistle to himself, he jumped into the comfort of his pajama bottoms, instantly relaxing.

He tugged up his shirt, his nerves suddenly tingling. He had the distinct impression he was being stared at, rather insistently too. He didn’t think he could take anymore of this bouncing back and forth between emotions. He bunched the shirt up in his lap and pursed his lips, glancing toward Cartman’s side of the room through the corner of his eye. Kyle shivered. 

He was staring at him, with heavy eyes. Kyle turned away, his cheeks flushing with discomfort. Cartman was such a disgusting freak. The muscles on Kyle’s back bunched and jumped as he tried to fold his shirt, his hands trembling with nerves that shamed and appalled him. 

Kyle couldn’t blink away his horrid visage, so much worse than he was used to seeing from him. He had been staring at him unblinking, his gaze beyond being merely lewd, instead peeling away every layer of his flesh and scraping against his bones. Kyle slouched down as much as he could, wanting to be as small as possible.

He tried to slip on his sleep shirt as quickly as physically possible. It was when he was halfway through, his head caught inextricably between the soft folds of cloth, that Cartman spoke. His voice was casual, so matter of fact, making his words all the more terrible, making them rip through Kyle’s core, tearing him asunder. “One day, I’m going to rape you.”

Kyle yanked his shirt down and whipped his head around, nearly throwing himself off the bed. Cartman was laying under his covers, still, back turned to Kyle, as if he hadn’t said a word. Kyle’s heart hammered against his ribs. 

Kyle scrambled for his belongings and frantically fumbled through until his hysteric fingers latched onto something cold and flat. He gripped his pocket knife in a tight enough grip to turn his knuckles white and clutched it close to his chest, prepared to use it- to use it to kill. 

He climbed under the covers of his bed, scooting to the very furthest edge of the mattress. Had he imagined Cartman saying that? Why would he imagine something like that? There had been clear intent behind his words. Kyle shuddered.

He laid there staring at Cartman’s back, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. It enraged him. He couldn’t just threaten something like that and then promptly fall asleep as if he hadn’t done a thing. Kyle wanted to throw up.

He didn’t sleep that night.

He wasn’t entirely convinced he was going to survive the summer.

He was certain he wouldn’t.


	3. But Here to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle and Cartman have a nice talk about their feelings.

Kyle glared into the swirling dark depths of his mug of coffee, knife solid and heavy against his thigh. He was exhausted, but he really didn’t want it to show. He blinked his eyes rapidly, hoping to clear away his drowsiness, and breathed in the bitter taste of his drink. It didn’t really help, he yawned.

Then, of course, the asshole of the hour pranced into the mess hall, humming a Lady Gaga song to himself. He sat himself across from Kyle, a self-satisfied and oblivious smile on his face. Kyle’s fingers twitched, itching to pull his knife. He took a slow sip of the coffee, grimacing at the terrible taste. How did his dad drink this shit everyday?

“Good morning, Kyle.” Cartman leaned forward on his elbows. Kyle leaned back. “Did you sleep well?”

“If you touch me,” Kyle warned, his voice low and even, “I will stab you. I have a knife, and I will stab you.”

Cartman blinked, taken aback. He pulled away, holding his palms out soothingly. Kyle’s lip curled. “Alright, Kyle, let’s settle down.” He grinned nervously. “I think you’re overreacting to something here, buddy.”

“Overreacting?” Kyle slammed his coffee down. “You’re the one who threatened to-”

“Good~ morning boys!” Big Gal Al sang, pirouetting into the room with a ribbon fluttering behind him. “Are you ready for the Super Grand Tour?” He twirled the ribbon elegantly around himself, and bowed, an eager smile on his face.

“Boy! Am I!” Cartman exclaimed.

Kyle muttered a resigned agreement under his tongue, tugging the neck of his sweater up to his chin. He had signed up for this. He had to go through with it. He took another sip of his coffee. It was nowhere near strong enough to be worth the effort it took for him to consume.

+++

“-And down that path a ways is the boat shed and the dock, but we’ll go check that out a bit later,” Big Gay Al pointed down a thin meandering trail through a waving line of trees. Kyle wished looked forward to it, the walk looked like a peaceful one, but he knew it wouldn’t be, not if he couldn’t be alone.

“First, I want to show you the athletics area, they did such a good job.” Al clasped his hands together in delight.

“Wow, Big Gay Al,” Cartman gushed, “This is all so kewl!” Kyle winced at his mispronunciation of the word ‘cool’. He typically grated on his nerves, but this morning, it was particularly egregious. He couldn’t shake this pervasive feeling of discomfort that had settled over his bones like a grainy film.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!”

Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders, trailing a fair ways behind them. His knuckles brushed against cool metal.

He felt absurd.

Nothing was going to happen to him in the middle of the day, especially not with another soul to bear witness, and yet he had a knife in his pocket. Cartman had always said unsettling things to him, and he’d only occasionally acted on them... He had followed him somewhere relatively secluded...

Kyle’s nose scrunched in disgust.

The summer heat was unbearable, it was sweltering, and he was wearing a sweater because he felt naked. He angled his face up to catch a breeze, letting his eyes flutter closed as the pleasant coolth ruffled his hair. It really was nice outside, smelled nice, felt nice, even if it was a touch warm.

He wished he could actually enjoy it.

“Here we are!” Al flourished to the right. “This here is the soccer field, and that,” He flourished to the left with a twirl, “is the track and the sand-pits for games like tug-of-war.” Big Gay AL bubbled with excitement, his eyes sparkling and his entire being flitting like a spark. Kyle softened.

“Your camp is set up really nicely.” Kyle expressed. Al glanced at him and smiled.

“Thank you.” Kyle smiled shakily back.

Al’s pocket buzzed. He jumped. He settled his hand to his chest with an embarrassed giggle and pulled his phone out. His eyes crunched in confusion and he turned back to the boys apologetically. “I’m really sorry boys, but I need to answer this really quick. I’ll be back in a spiff.”

The moment Al was a few yards away, murmuring into his phone, Cartman descended. He was close enough that Kyle could smell the bacon he had eaten for breakfast. He kecked. “You’re really bringing the mood down with this prissy little pity party you’ve been throwing all morning.”

Kyle took a large step back, creating as much distance between them as he could. He met Cartman’s eyes. Kyle bared his teeth, frustrated, but finding himself at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say when he hadn’t yet had the time to determine the validity of the threat hurled at him the night before?

“What do you want from me?” Kyle finally settled on. They both knew he wanted something from him; they both knew that was why he was here. Cartman’s eyes flicked down Kyle’s body and dragged back up. Kyle shivered.

“Oh Kyle,” he sighed pityingly. Kyle swallowed. He stood in the wide open, surrounded by fields of emptiness, and he felt trapped, caged in, rooted to the spot. Cartman’s eyes flicked over Kyle’s shoulder. “What do you think he’s talking about? You bet someone shut down the camp? What a shame that would be, to be shut down before the grand opening.”

“What?” Kyle whirled around. Al’s shoulders were slumped dejectedly. He glanced up, making eye contact with Kyle. Kyle looked away. Al had looked worried if not a bit like a kicked puppy. “Cartman, I swear,” Kyle seethed quietly, “If you did something to the camp just to get to me-”

“I’m so sorry boys!” Al apologized. “We’re going to have to cut this super special tour short!” He looked away guiltily, like he was certain he had just ruined Hanukkah, or Kyle supposed, Christmas would be a more apt holiday for Al to concern himself with. “Something super serious just came up that I need to tend to!”

“It’s okay,” Kyle reassured. “You go take care of whatever’s going on. We can always finish later.”

Al sighed. “Thank you boys. While I’m gone,” he fished a glittering pink lanyard of keys from his pocket, “Could you two set up the tether-balls? The toy shed is just around that bend there.”

“Don’t worry,” Kyle gently pried the keys from his grip. “We’ve got it.” Al nodded distractedly and immediately scampered off, glancing back at hem once. Kyle just gave him a tense thumbs up and waved him off.

He set his attention on Cartman, hoping his desire to stamp him into the ground was more than incredibly clear. Cartman glowered back at him. “Don’t look at me like that, you self-obsessed asshole. I didn’t fucking do anything, okay?” He flicked his fingers at Kyle, making him flinch, and spun on his heel toward the shed Al had pointed out. “I was just pointing out his body language.”

Kyle ground his heel into the dirt, the metal of the keys pinching his palm as his grip tightened, his eye twitching. He set to follow, making sure to keep at least three, if not more, yards between the two of them now that Big Gay Al was no longer corralling them from one place to another. Every inch separating them released a tendril of anxiety from his nerves.

Their decreased proximity gave Kyle the peace of mind to actually take in his surroundings and indulge in the beauty of it all, if even only just a minor amount. A bee buzzed just in front of his nose. Kyle sighed, his tendons relaxing, watching it bumble in lazy circled and disappear past he line of trees.

He wasn’t quite sure how it had managed to catch his eye, such an innocuous thing, but it had, a dark grey shred of cloth clinging limply to the thin branch of a bramble. Kyle stepped off the pathway, jumping down a slight incline, and pulled his sleeve down over his hand to avoid being pricked. He tugged the cloth free and rubbed the coarse texture between his fingers.

A crushed twig beseeched him. His eyes squinted. The entire are surrounding the bush looked carelessly trampled, and this spot over to his left, Kyle frowned. It looked like someone had stumbled back and fallen, like they had been frightened and retreated hastily. He shoved the cloth in his pocket.

He felt uneasy.

“Kyle!” He shook himself. “Are you going to help me or not?” Cartman grabbed his shoulder. He jerked himself out of the loose grip, his skin crawling from the pressure of the almost there contact.

“Don’t touch me.”

“What’s going on with you?” Cartman hissed. “You’re off.”

“Off?” Kyle crossed his arms and stepped out of the woods, moving back toward the tetherball court, his original goal and mission. “I’m just fine.” He glared at nothing in particular. “I don’t need you pretending to worry about me.”

“You just look pale.” Cartman strode up lazily from behind him, hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t need you passing out because you didn’t eat or something. I’m not going to do your share of the work.”

“Jackass.”

He flipped through the keys Al had given him until he found the right one to unlock the storage shed at the edge of the court. A droplet of sweat rolled down his nose. He wiped his arm down his face and pushed back his hair as he swung open the door. There, conveniently, was the metal cart full of the tether-balls. He firmly planted his feet and heaved, not sure whether he was bothered or relieved that no aid was offered him.

He decided on bothered. He could feel Cartman’s eyes settled against his lower back, stalking his every move. He breathed in deeply. It wouldn’t do to allow himself to be intimidated by a simple stare. He was more than capable of defending himself should the time come.

Still, he twitched his leg, to re-ascertain his knife hadn’t somehow fallen away. It was still tucked safely in its place. The gentle weight of it reassured him.

“Do you mind?” Kyle snapped.

“Not at all.” Cartman smirked, leaning over the cart to rest his chin in his palm, placing himself just below eye level. He blinked coyly up a him, the predatory glint in his eyes betraying the innocent way he tried to tilt his head. Kyle subtly drew himself back.

“You look warm.” Cartman said. Kyle actually felt quite cold, violent chills coursing through his blood. “Why are you wearing such a thick sweater?”

“Maybe,” Kyle grouched, “because you keep ogling me?” Get up.” He shook the cart. Cartman backed up.

“I’m not ogling you.” Cartman rolled his eyes. “You think I would actually want your pock-marked, zitty ass?” He barked. “God, your ego is really something else, Kyle!”

“Bebe thought my ass was just fine.” He unlocked the cart.

“Yeah? Well, Bebe is a whore.”

Kyle threw open the top grate with as much force as he could. His heart faltered in disappointment when it didn’t connect with his fleshy target. Cartman’s eyes crinkled in amusement. He glanced at Kyle’s chest and tugged at his teeshirt in reference, “Why’d you even bring that thing in the first place? It’s hot enough to melt balls!”

“Nights get cold.” Kyle answered simply. He tugged on a crisp, white rope, pulling up a massive knot and about five balls, as opposed to the singular one he had intended. He tsked lightly.

“Baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” He tugged viciously at the ropes. His hands craving the violence.

“Why not? That’s what you’re acting like, a big, whiny baby.”

Kyle pulled one of the gleaming, silver hooks free just enough that he could swing it, and he did, aiming for Cartman’s bulbous head. Cartman yelped and stumbled back, tripping over his feet, he landed on his ass with a dull thump and a whimper. Kyle snickered.

This was the kind of levity he had needed in his day.

“Not cool! You could have split my eye or knocked me out or something!”

“Shame. Wish I had.” Staring down at the oaf, as he blubbered on the blacktop, rubbing ruefully at his back, Kyle felt more in control of things. He could handle this.

He completely freed one of the balls, his chest filling with the satisfaction of success. He rolled the ball aside and returned to his task at hand.

“And you’ve been acting like I’m the violent one here.”

“Quit pouting. So far as I’m concerned, I’m only acting in preemptive selfdefense.” Kyle darkened. He lowered the balls in his hands. “You said you were going to rape me.”

Saying the words out loud, he settled.

Cartman was silent for a moment. He pushed himself to his feet. “I didn’t mean it,” He grumbled, “obviously.” He stooped down to pick up the ball Kyle had rolled. “I just said it to fuck with you.”

Kyle nodded. “I know. But you did mean it.” Cartman readied himself to object, but Kyle wouldn’t let him. “I don’t for a second believe you actually want to have sex with me. I’m not so deluded as to believe you’re so overwhelming attracted to me-” He tore another ball free and tossed it at Cartman’s feet.

Kyle stared steadily at Cartman, tearing apart his indecipherable face. “But I have no doubt you truly meant it, that you threatened it as an act of violence against me. I know you’re only motivated by some sick desire to prove something to yourself. We bothknow you're worthless.”

Kyle gulped in a heavy swallow of air, marching closer, bridging the gap between the two of them. He had to look up, but he felt tall. “For some reason, you’ve always felt threatened by me.” Kyle snorted. “I think that’s why you’ve always had this twisted obsession with trying to exert your dominance over me.”

The corners of Kyle’s mouth curled up.

“You’re pathetic.”

Cartman blinked. He swallowed. He looked down, breaking their gaze. Kyle’s teeth gleamed.

“Get over here.” Kyle demanded, turning his back on him. He peeled off his sweater and tied to around his waist. He didn’t find himself feeling particularly plussed that his teeshirt underneath rode up marginally. “I need you to boost me up so I can reach.”

“Don’t boss me around!”

Kyle brandished his knife. “Now!” He had begun the summer with limited patience, and for Cartman, he had none.

“Holy fuck, Kyle, Jesus!” Cartman stood next to him. “The only fucking thing I feel threatened by is that goddamned knife!”

“Good.” Kyle squeezed his arm and rounded him to clamber up his back. He situated himself on Cartman’s shoulders, pleased that he had complied with relatively little struggle. It felt right. “Now get me closer to the pole so I can actually put this thing up.” He gestured with a jab of his knife.

Cartman grumbled and shuffled to the pole. Kyle grinned and stretched up to click the rope in place. They moved on to the next three poles, accomplishing their task with surprising efficiency.

“You know,” thick fingers drummed against his thighs, “this isn’t exactly how I imagined having my head between your legs.” Kyle’s former fear had somewhat subsided, but his skin still crawled. He squeezed his thighs tightly and curled forward, cradling Cartman’s cheek in one palm. He pressed his blade against the thick folds of his neck.

“Enjoy it then,” he murmured, “It’s the closest you’ll ever get.”


	4. My Chapter Titles Don't Really Mean Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something in Kyle shifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexual violence

Kyle peacefully drummed his fingertips on the wooden tabletop, a spoonful of beans balanced between his lips, as he waited for his phone to boot back up. He could feel Cartman’s eyes on him from across he table, but he found himself more amused by the gaze than anything. Those eyes weren’t tracked to his jaw, or his neck, or his chest, but instead to his drumming fingers, or more so, the knife caged just behind. He grinned lazily.

Kyle glanced down at his phone. He had seven missed messages. The first, surprisingly, was from Kenny, the next four were from Stan- Kyle rolled his eyes- and the last two were from Bebe Stevens.

Interesting.

Kyle’s fingers stilled. He hadn't spoken to her in about three months, after a mutual breakup. He had liked her, but they'd both decided they had different goals in life.

‘hey.’ Her first message read.

‘I miss you.’ Said the second. Kyle bit his lip in thought. His summer just might be salvageable after all.

“Why is your face so red?” Cartman grouched. Kyle ignored him, too intent on typing just the right thing. She had messaged him about three hours ago, and three hours was long enough for her to completely change her mind on something.

‘How are you?’ He finally ended on. Which was horrible, but he wasn't going to dwell on it; he was just going to breathe and let it be.

He decided to read Kenny’s text, not yet in the mood to deal with Stan’s, as much as he loved the idiot.

‘thats not a hot babe dude’ Kyle snorted.

‘I assumed you have bad taste.’ Kyle quickly typed back, thinking about that horrible lowlight image of a squinting Cartman he had sent the other. God, last night felt like forever ago. He chuckled deep in his chest, low and just for himself.

“Kyle, seriously, who are you texting?”

“I’m texting Kenny about how gross you are to look at.” His phone pinged. “Like,” he glanced up, assuring their eyes met before he continued, “I could honestly throw up right now.”

‘Ya right dude, not funny.’ Kyle snickered.

“You know what, Kyle? Fuck you!” Cartman flicked a spoonful of beans at his face. The warm, slimy lumps slid slowly down his face and plopped sadly in his lap. Kyle curled his fingers closer around the knife on the table, not yet touching it, but ready.

“You only wish you could be so lucky.” Kyle wiped his cheek on his shoulder and spooned another mouthful of his own beans.

‘C’mon Ken, I’m not judging. So lard gets you going, it’s okay.’

‘Lonely.’ Kyle blinked. That last one was from Bebe. His hand shook, this time with nerves instead of the day’s earlier dread, a more welcomed sort of anticipation. That’s how he was suppose to be feeling at this point in his life. His chest felt light, his head pleasantly fuzzy. Despite his lack of substantial sentiment towards the girl in question, he was tired enough to latch onto the fleeting emotion like a leech.

‘Yeah?’

‘Kyle, wtf?’ A message from Stan popped up before she could respond. Kyle bit back a groan. ‘Kenny says u texted him back.’ Kyle frowned. His phone pinged again. ‘R u ignoring me?’

‘no.’ Kyle typed in falsehood, quickly scrolling through Stan’s previous four messages.

‘Glad ur not dead.’

‘G’night dude.’

‘morning, hows camp?’

‘omg! Kyle, text me back ASAP! EMERGENCY!’ Kyle momentarily startled, than rolled his eyes. If Stan had more drama with Wendy going on, then he would be glad he had ignored him for the greater half of the day.

‘What was the emergency?’ He stabbed out.

“Oh dude!” Cartman droned in merriment, “Did a chick just reject you?” Kyle ignored him and calmed his breathing. He needed to not be so upset with Stan. He hadn’t, after all, ever told him how annoying he’d found him to be recently, and he never would. Stan was sensitive, so he’d carry his irritation to the grave, or at least as far as it would go. He’d never really been particularly skilled at holding onto his emotions, and he was self-aware enough to know this about himself.

“Was it Bebe?”

‘Don't worry about it.’ Stan responded. ‘Wendy made me apologize. Were good now.’ Kyle’s nostrils flared. He had been right, and just like always, it had turned out to have apparently not even have had been a big deal, something Stan had probably, once again blown out of proportion, something he had tried to needlessly involve Kyle in, yet again.

“-turn out she wasn’t actually into your jew ass- Woah!”

Kyle held the tip of his knife pointed directly at the fatass’s shit-spewing throat. “Shut the FUCK up! I am NOT in the mood for you!” Kyle flicked the knife down and stabbed it into the table to punctuate his point. Cartman, wide-eyed, swallowed. Kyle would have thought that the message would have gotten through his thick skull by now, to leave him the Hell alone, but, it seemed, apparently not.

Kyle’s phone pinged.

Blood shot eyes rolled down at the lit up screen. If it was Stan, he was going to go ahead and rip the knife from the table and stab his own hand in irritation. It wasn’t. It was Bebe, and his cheeks immediately went pink. She had sent him a photo.

Kyle picked up his phone and angled it down, so he could open at the picture and peek at it without anyone else seeing. For the short stint when he had dated the girl, not a single picture she had sent him had been one he’d have ever been willing to share with another living soul, if only out respect for her privacy... and embarrassment for himself. He glanced at Cartman. He wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy grumbling into his beans.

Kyle opened the picture. His cheeks immediately flushed, and he had to press the screen again his chest. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He had never been very good with this kind of thing, a turn off apparently, for the likes of Bebe Stevens. He anxiously glanced back the screen. Breasts, she had sent him a pair of breasts, hers specifically, delicately dressed in pink lace.

His chest fluttered delightfully.

‘Really lonely’

‘And I want you’

Kyle drooped. He typed back slowly. ‘I can’t come see you. I’m out of town.’

Her response was immediate. ‘then send me something.’

He set the phone down. He looked at his bowl of beans. He had only eaten about half of it, but his stomach was too jumbled to even think about finishing, so he didn’t think it would be so bad if he didn’t. He’d just go wash out the bowl and, he glanced at Cartman who was still occupied with ruefully chewing his beans, then he would sneak off real quick and take a picture to send her.

It was rude, after all, to leave a girl hanging.

+++

Kyle crept alone in the dying daylight, his shadow cast long and ominous in his path. His foot shot forward to stamp it out, but of course he’d never reach it. Such things would always be just out of his reach, so very tantalizingly near, yet untouchable. He supposed it was his fate to always be at a disadvantage, it was in his nature.

He kneaded the flesh just above his eyebrows. He must be more exhausted than he had previously thought, his mind swirling and swirling. He huffed and set back on his lonely path, quite content in being alone on his way to the bathroom, preferring the solitude really. There was a particular line of trees, just at the edge of his sight, that made the hairs on his arms stand on end, as if he was being watched, but animals lived in forests, and animals loved to stare. So he brushed the feeling off.

It smelled nice out, like it was going to rain soon, like a fresh start.

He pulled his phone out, not wanting to leave Bebe ignored for too long, and quickly sent her a text, one hand tucked in his pocket. ‘What are you doing right now?’

‘Enjoying my old pics of that fine asss’ Kyle burned. He hurried his pace. Maybe he’d call her. That sounded like a really good idea right now. He was thrumming with tension right now, and it would be so woefully grand to actually relieve, at least in part, his pent up stress.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean anything by it.” Kyle heard up ahead, from behind one of the cabins.

He slowed his pace, making sure to keep his footsteps soft. That voice had belonged to Mr. Slave, and Kyle couldn’t actually remember having had ever heard him say anything of substance, not that he spoke often to the man. He waited quietly for a moment, curious if he was talking about whatever Big Gay AL had ran off for before.

“Then why would they pull their kids? They don’t- it’s just like the scouts all over again.” Al said dejectedly. Kyle pressed up against the side of the cabin, inching closer to the corner so he could hear. He kept his hand curled around his phone, ready to silence it the moment it tried to buzz.

“No, we’ll show them,” Mr. Slave murmured soothingly, “We’ll do right by the kids who do come.”

Kyle heard a loud sniffle and then a sort of shuffling sound, which he assumed to be an embrace. It was quiet. Apparently their conversation was over. Kyle stepped away as silently as possible, feeling like a creep the longer he listened in on an intimate moment that didn’t actually provide him with any information.

Continuing his way to the bathrooms, he mulled over the brief snippet he had heard. It didn’t make sense for parents to be pulling the kids from the camp, not when it was such a nice camp, not when they were supposed to be arriving the following afternoon. What exactly had happened with the scouts to make Al sound so distressed?

Kyle pulled at his hair and groaned. He prayed, whatever it was, was something inconsequential and that it absolutely did not repeat. He had come here specifically to avoid any unnecessary bullshit. Kyle grit his teeth, resolving then and there that he would stop snooping. He refused to exacerbate any issues rising on the horizon because he couldn’t keep his big nose out of it.

He scowled.

He was here to have a good summer, a relaxing summer, a fun summer. It pissed him off that he had to keep reminding himself of that fact. He grabbed the handle to the bathroom door and jerked it open. He could have sworn he saw a small flash of light to his left, could have sworn he’d heard a shutter close, vaguely in the direction of those damn off-putting trees, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. Bad shit always happened because he always acknowledged it.

He slammed the door closed behind him, dialing Bebe’s number.

+++

Kyle pushed open the screen door of his shared cabin with his hip, squeezing a towel to his damp curls. The clothes he had been wearing all day felt heavy on his clean flesh, but he hadn’t had much of a choice but the put the same clothes back on, since he hadn’t exactly been planning on taking a shower in the first place. He couldn’t really, at the moment, bring himself to care. He flopped back on his bed, his bones feeling light.

“I heard you.”

“What?” Kyle sat up, leaving his towel abandoned around his neck. Cartman, draped casually across his bedding, stared at Kyle with a mixed expression, one of a cat who had caught a mouse but didn’t quite know what to do with it yet.

“In the bathroom,” Cartman stretched. “I went to take a piss, and I heard what you were doing in the shower. You were being really obvious about it, too. For shame Mr. Camp Counselor.” Cartman grinned. He had figured out precisely what he wanted to do with his mouse.

Kyle wasn’t about to be toyed with. “Obviously, I wouldn’t do that with kids here.” Kyle kicked off his shoes. “You’re a pervert if you were listening.”

Cartman only shrugged, not at all deterred by the accusation. Kyle glared at him for a beat, before deciding that he was done engaging. It frustrated him that he actually had to consciously disengage, their toxic back-and-forth so engrained in who he was. He slung his towel over the headboard and tugged off his sweater, dropping it on the floor.

He was more secure changing there than he felt he had any real right to be after the night before, but his knife gleamed reassuringly from his pillow and filled him with this heady sense of invulnerability.

“Hey.”

Kyle untwisted the sweats he had chosen to sleep in and pulled the drawstring tight. The strings were longer than he particularly cared for. He sighed and unfolded his sleep shirt.

“Remember when you sucked my balls?”

Kyle didn’t move. Of course he would bring that up. This was the exact kind of moment when the bastard would want to elevate himself, to alleviate his own self-loathing by dragging Kyle’s ego through the mud of shame and humiliation. He couldn’t ever imagine Cartman letting go of that day, of Imaginationland. It had probably, disgustingly, been the best day of his entire godforsaken life. Kyle inhaled through his nose.

“No.”

“Yeah you do, Kyle.” Cartman’s mattress creaked. “We both watched it happen. It must have been so embarrassing for you.”

“It wasn’t me.” Kyle crumpled his dirty shirt and tossed it over his shoulder.

“What?”

“It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t you. You said yourself, we both watched it happen.” Kyle looked at him pointedly. “Because it never happened. We both know that I never actually sucked your balls. You’re never going to get your satisfaction from me Cartman. I am NEVER going to give you what you want.”

Cartman was in his face. Kyle’s eyes lowered.

“You’re just going to have to accept reality, and go on living the rest of your life knowing that you failed to put me down, that you’ve failed over, and over, and over again. I’ll always be better than you.” Kyle spat.

“You’re not that great.” Cartman growled, pressing up against him. Kyle’s heart skipped, burdened by the sensation on rough flannel on his bare skin as he was forced into contact chest to chest, nose to nose. Kyle leaned back as far as he could, bending his back awkwardly to gain back his invaded space.

He grasped blindly at his pillow. He needed his knife. He found it.

“I fucking hate you,” thick fingers wrapped around his wrist, “and your smug fucking attitude.” Kyle flailed against him, but he was over=powered and the knife was broken from his grip. It skittered across the ground until it thumped against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Kyle’s pupils shrank, horrid instinct kicking in over the sensation of, once more, being defenseless and at the disadvantage.

He bucked desperately, and animalistic roar exploding out of him. Blinded by rage and powered by adrenaline, he grasped at Cartman’s arms and flipped him over, flinging him backwards onto the bed. Kyle jumped on top of him, barely straddling his overbearing stomach, and wrapped both of his hands around his neck.

Cartman gagged, both hands immediately flying up to scratch at him, but his grip didn’t loosen. It tightened, clasping tighter and tighter, forcing Cartman to wheeze and gasp, his eyes rolling back and his cheeks turning red.

Kyle leaned closer, letting his eyes flutter half-closed. “It guts you, doesn’t it?” He uttered. “You don’t actually have anything over me. All you have is your hollow little victory, that you- as pitiful as you are- know doesn’t really count, since it wasn’t really me.” Kyle shifted.

He sat up, hands never straying, and brought one knee up until he could put all of his weight on it and dig it into the multitudinous mass that made up Cartman’s torso. The way squeaking air escaped his blue lips stirred something in Kyle’s chest, He grinned. He slid his left hand over Cartman’s jugular- he removed the right- holding him securely but allowing just enough air in for him to remain conscious. The way Cartman stuttered in a breath, it was obvious that the new air burned him horribly.

“You never truly got your satisfaction out of it, and you never will.” Kyle bounced on his knee and set his free hand gently on Cartman’s chest. “Not in the long run. Because it was never actually you either.” He squeezed his right hand, groping a disgustingly soft mound. His nose scrunched. Cartman blinked rapidly.

“You never actually felt anything, so how could it be real?” He dragged his hand down, using the momentum to press Cartman’s head back. “You don’t even have a hazy recollection of the feeling of your so-called victory, noting substantial,” He flicked his wrist down and dug his claws into the innermost part of Cartman’s thigh, where it would bite, “no sensation to latch on to,” he scraped his nails painfully up his thigh. “Nothing tactile.”

Kyle stilled. Their eyes connected. Kyle’s tongue darted out, and he bit his lip. Cartman shuddered, sweat dripping down his face. “You don’t have shit over me. It’s killing you, isn’t it?” This was more exciting than calling Bebe had been.

He grasped between his legs and strangled the handful of fragile flesh. Cartman released a strangled sound, unable to properly scream around the vice-like pressure pressed into his throat. Kyle laughed, the sound of his own voice disconnected and occurring all at once completely outside of his body and entirely in his head, disjointed and wrong. He laughed harder.

“I should fucking crush them!” Kyle tightened his grip, twisting his grip. Cartman beat his fists weakly at his arms. Kyle panted. “Here’s your something real.” Be breathed heavily. “I want you to think back on this moment. You’re the one that’s been humiliated from the start.” He felt too hot. “I want you to remember what your humiliation feels like.”

Cartman cried out. Tears dripped from his eyes and rolled down the sides of his cheeks, pooling in the hair in front of his ears. He was a mess, eyes full of terror that Kyle had never seen there before. A moan built its way up in Kyle’s throat.

Kyle launched back. He crashed heavily to the floor and scrambled back. Kyle desperately fought to collect himself, staring wide-eyed and the large form that rolled up on his bed, trembling. Kyle looked down at his hands. What had just-

Shakily, Kyle pushed himself up to his feet. He glanced away from Cartman, not wanting to think. He’d go pick up his knife, he’d occupy himself with picking up his knife. He couldn’t believe he had lashed out in... quite that... he grimaced and bent down to pick up the knife.

“Get off my bed.” he growled. He didn’t move, not until he heard the other get up and lay himself down on his own bed. It was...

...a disconcerting feeling having Cartman be so suffocatingly silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Dreams.


End file.
